Some nights, Haurchefant nearly lets the fire go cold. Those who think to tend to the embers retire to their hard-earned beds as the bells draw deeper into the night, and still, their commander drags quill over parchment until the letters begin to blur. He could not describe even one document for how close he, too, is to burning out. The cocoa on his desk goes untouched. He'd made it thinking of how the sugar might quiet the ache in his temples, but truly, can he not simply finish this work? Such a treat seems undeserved, a cold comfort amidst the missives piling up like snow. The steam stops rising. Shoulders straining, he sends another page to the completed stack. His arms rest on the desk rather than supporting his sword and shield. It is a different weight, one his body has learned to carry despite how poorly he was trained for it. His early years had been all sword drills, no practicing his signature. No one cares much for how Greystone appeared over orders, smeared ink or no.

4. embers

haurchefant drabble | #scatteredstarlight

Vanilla and cinnamon wafted through the halls, the scent indulgent and heavy. Shadows and dust motes were persistent in the old castle, but even they parted way for the sweetness of dough rolled out under rough hands and the warmth of an oven door left open. Dracule Mihawk's home was old, but for once it was not empty. His ward had seated herself in the window frame somehow, laughing with herself as the young swordsman arranged his feet in the snow again and again. It was harmless training, but the tracks left behind certainly didn't look like angels. Perona puffed out her cheeks. "He should be wearing a hat." Mihawk said nothing, offering more focus than he needed on his hands as he stirred powdered sugar into milk until it went smooth and glossy. He did, however, raise a brow. This was acknowledgment enough. "It should be green," she continued. "Of course." "Of course," Mihawk repeated dryly.

She nodded, eyes widening in delight as quiet footsteps padded down the hall, soft but intentional against the stone. Messy hair, silk shirt — Mihawk hadn't been married so long that the sight of his partner just pulled from sleep has lost its awe. There may not be enough years, in truth. "And where," the question faded in favor of a yawn, picked back up easily, "would you want to get this green hat?" Perona had an answer, of course, and the island was not far from Kuraigana. Appearing for all the ocean not to listen, Mihawk made note of it. "He's coming in," the girl announced, swinging her legs. "That better be ready soon." The look she fixed on the cooling cinnamon rolls implied this was not an entirely selfless request. "And you need more icing." Silently, the swordsman cast a glance at the occupied seat at the table, receiving a polite smile alongside an enthusiastic nod. He turned, reaching for the powdered sugar.

3. stirred

gothfam-centric, mihawk/general oc | #scatteredstarlight

Around the Forgotten Knight, the blizzard became drifts, stopping doors and turning porous stone smooth. Cloud Nine was home to several cracked windows, but most of the draftiest rooms went empty. The dark knight and his ward stayed in a pair of rooms, their friend paying for a third. The innkeeper looked away when it clearly went unused. The girl had the best room of the bunch, though on the lowest floor, even that was far below most nobles' standard for comfortable lodgings. Rielle was not one to complain. Both of her guardians' rooms had terrible drafts. They were smaller, and that was the only benefit on a brumal night, as the fireplace was a few fulms closer to where their occupants might sit or sleep. Like those in the other rooms, the bed was fine for a child, but the larger frames embraced on one did so for practicality - they used all their space and still shared warmth.

They licked at and faded from the issue of their closeness like flames hesitant to overtake a still-green branch. The smoke scented their little room, and even the broken glass could not allow enough ice inside to smother what had been lit. It grew steadily, and in the storm, there was little to do but add kindling to the fireplace and watch for the sparks. Sidurgu removed his threadbare sweater before bed — perfectly ignoring his opportunity to remain warm through to morning. Wren rolled, lying on him though he'd made just enough room on the thin mattress. She played idly with his calloused fingers. He dropped a kiss onto the crown of her head, soft as a drifted snowflake. No speaking — it was always the speaking that highlighted the shadows. The fire cracked. The wind shook the fractured pane. Their hands remained still. In the morning, there was a hot meal, a contract, a new chance for Rielle to try one of her spells. There would be no break in the weather.

2. brumal

wren/sidurgu | #scatteredstarlight

The Forgotten Knight went so quiet around Starlight. Business remained steady, though the atmosphere seemed more somber as the rest of the city brightened with fleeting cheer. The festivities would not last, but the winter always remained. Gibrillont did not comment on the differences, but he could not pretend he did not see them as he collected empty tankards from abandoned tables. The group in the corner had lost a member and gained another. The Heavens' Ward no longer shadowed the door, hoods covering their faces but posture revealing them before they d so much as ordered a drink. A short woman stacked extra gil on the counter when the barkeep turned his back, her smile secretive the one time he'd caught her and asked about it. He used the extra profits to purchase too much bread and left the excess out in the Brume most nights.

The poverty was still there, the grief, but some of the fear had gone. It burned low like the fire at the bottom of the stairs, flickering faint but warm over the couple that huddled at the corner table, their ward long sent to bed. Their heads bent close, features cast in every shade of orange and shadow. Gibrillont grabbed two glasses, sighing when they clanked too loudly against each other. No cracks, but a disruption in the silence. A few fingers of whisky, poured and delivered to the worn hands folded over the wooden tabletop soft as skin where it had once been rough. Wordless, nodded thanks loosened the knot in his chest. Business was good, shared silence better.

1. flicker

gibrillont-centric, implied wol/sidurgu existing in the background

#scatteredstarlight

ishgard at night, with some of the skyline captured at a distance. in the sky, a 5x5 grid of old squares has numbers 1-25 below a “scattered starlight” title

✨scattered starlight — collection🧵

🪡my festive snippet game via writing prompts delivered advent calendar-style🎄

💫various media, pairings, etc.❤️

#gardensfic #scatteredstarlight